


11:44

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Piper Wright opens an untouched Vault, she meets Andrea Taylor, a woman out of time. The only survivor of an apparent sabotage of Vault 111's cryogenic system, Andrea is determined to avenge her wife and son. Originally posted <a href="http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/7011.html?thread=18794339#t18794339">here</a> on the Fallout Kink Meme, and will be updated there first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Choco ([Tumblr](chocochipbiscuit.tumblr.com), [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit)) and Del ([Tumblr](http://ialpiriel.tumblr.com/), [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel/works)) for beta reading and rescuing this story from my drafts folder.

Diamond City was supposed to be better than the rest of the ‘Wealth. The city on the hill, the ‘Great Green Jewel.’ It had clean water, clinics, schools, and chapels, all the trappings of civilization, along with reinforced walls and a well-regulated city guard. But McDonough banished the ghouls in the spring of ‘82, and Piper found the hole in the wall not long after. _Publick Occurrences_ was meant to right the wrongs and restore the city’s luster, and for a while, it had worked.

Piper enjoyed the acclaim while it lasted. A discount on drinks at the Dugout Inn, smiles and nods from the people she passed on the street. Things soured quickly, and by the fall of 2287, things were as tense as they’d ever been. There were death threats, break-ins, run-ins with the Children of Atom. Quietly, privately, the danger _thrilled_ Piper, but it was hard on Nat. They’d already lost a lot of family, and Nat was too young to spend so much time worrying about her big sister.

Gradually, Piper began to spend more time away from home. She spent days and weeks in the Wasteland, sifting through rubble and searching for less-incendiary stories than those she found at home. She was interviewing farmers for a piece about Wasteland agriculture due to be published in time for Thanksgiving ‘87. She left the Abernathy homestead at three thirty, traveling northeast towards Tenpines Bluff on cracked asphalt roads, intending to circle back towards Diamond City the next morning.

She saw the raiders before they saw her, and considered herself damn lucky for it. Four them, leaning up against a makeshift barricade, passing a jet inhaler around, weapons held easy in slack hands. A mangy dog lay at their feet, fly-bit and panting, black tongue lolling out of its mouth. Cursing under her breath, Piper ducked behind a burned-out Corvega, jerking her worn 10mm free of its holster.

Piper had ignored Connie Abernathy’s warning about the raiders on the northerly roads. (“They’re collecting tolls from travelers,” she’d said, “Caps or chems or whatever you’ve got. Be careful.”) Cursing herself for a fool, she watched the Raiders and considered her options. Could rush the checkpoint, could sneak past, could double back and take the long road ‘round. Outnumbered as she was, she didn’t like her odds in a firefight, and sneaking carried the same risks without allowing her the advantage of surprise.

She swore again and dropped back into cover. The sun dipped low over the western horizon and she wouldn’t make it back to the Abernathy’s before dark. Approaching an isolated farm at night was _begging_ for a bullet between the eyes; the ‘Wealth was a “shoot first” kind of a place. Safer to approach by daylight, when the farmers could visually confirm your identity. She was effectively stranded; would have to sleep rough in raider territory. Safest to find a little shack and hole up until morning

Piper called up her mental map of the region. There was an abandoned suburb to the north, a pre-war bedroom community nestled at the base of a forested hill. Nothing and no one lived there, and the hill would offer a decent vantage point. Risky to go off-road, but it’d be riskier to remain where she was and pray that the raiders and their dog took no notice of her. Shouldering her pack, Piper slipped off the road and into the underbrush, holding her breath.

Twenty minutes later, she crested the hill, lactic acid burning in her legs. The Commonwealth spread out beneath her: the Glowing Sea a green blur southern horizon, Boston ruins to the southeast, a glimmer of ocean visible just beyond. The sun had set fully, stars blinking into existence above her, illuminated bare trees, busted-down fences, and an old double-wide. Piper settled on the trailer as the likeliest shelter and jimmied the lock, her 10mm at the ready.

The interior was lifeless, thick with dust and grime. The floor creaked alarmingly under her weight, but held when Piper probed it cautiously with her toe. There was a desk on the opposite wall, and Piper crossed to it, automatically checked the drawers for salvageable material. She found junk: empty pack of smokes, page-a-day calendar, and an assortment of dried-up ballpoint pens. Turning, she noticed an electronic panel embedded in the wall next to the window. It was a control panel of some sort: keypad, grimy screen, buttons, like a larger Pip-Boy. Piper scrubbed at the panel with her coat sleeve, and the screen illuminated, green text and a blinking cursor.

WELCOME VAULT-TEC PERSONNEL. ENTER SIX-DIGIT PERSONAL ACCESS CODE.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. An untouched Vault promised a better story than her farming fluff piece. Hands shaking, she entered numbers at random: 617857, 002215, 102377. “Come on,” she said, calloused fingers dancing over the keypad. “Just a little luck.” She glanced around the trailer, and her eyes fell on a wall calendar. The date was different than the desk calendar, open to the wrong month and wrong year. There was a single day circled, no other marks or notations. Frowning, Piper glanced from month to day to year, then keyed in a new six-digit number: 091118.

Outside, the ground split open.

Piper staggered backward, hands clapped over her ears. A metal hatch opened up in the hilltop, gears grinding as the centuries-old metal shrieked in protest. Piper gaped in wonder as a sluggish pneumatic left appeared, emblazoned with the Vault-Tec Logo and a number: 111. “Holy shit,” she said again, heart pounding in her throat.

Knees knocking, she left the trailer and crossed to the lift. She hesitated on the edge for a moment, staring down into the abyss. The elevator shaft lead down into inky, cave-like darkness, no indication of depth. Piper closed her eyes, suppressing a swoop of vertigo, then took a deep breath, and stepped onto the lift. The mechanism responded to her weight immediately, lurching into motion with the same god-awful metallic scream. Piper stumbled and clutched at the safety railing for support, jelly-legged and dizzy as the lift descended.

She traveled steadily downward for several minutes. Piper stared up at the shrinking patch of sky until the hatch closed overhead, drowning her in total darkness. The lift ground to an abrupt halt, and Piper staggered forward as red emergency lights flickered on, bathing the underground corridor in hellish light. With nowhere to go but forward, Piper ventured deeper into the Vault, loaded pistol in her trembling hand. “Hello?” she called, her voice echoing queerly in the strange light. “Is there anyone there?”

There was no response. The Vault was tomb-quiet, silent except for Piper’s labored breathing and heavy footfalls. Somewhere in the depths of the Vault, an ancient ventilation system stirred, and Piper shivered in a sudden blast of cold, recycled air. She whirled around, sighting down the barrel of her weathered 10mm pistol, but there was nothing and no one there.

Too late, it occurred to Piper that she might have made a mistake. The Abernathy family didn’t know about her detour; Nat didn’t know when to expect Piper home. How long would it take before she started to worry By the time anyone went out looking for her, it’d be too late.

She took a deep breath, pausing to steady herself before she continued on. _They wouldn’t make a Vault with no exit,_ she thought, knuckles white on the grip of her gun. _Would they?_

She climbed a flight of stairs, followed a winding hallway down into an antechamber full of glass pods. The inside of the pods were lined with ice crystals, concealing their contents from view. Squinting, Piper made out a human-shaped outline in one of the pods then stepped back, heart pounding. _There are people inside,_ she thought, suppressing a wave of panic. _My God, there are_ people _inside those things_.

Piper passed in front of the silent pods, holding her breath. There was a terminal at the far end of the room, its screen glowing faintly green in the dim chamber. Piper logged in with the same access code she’d used to open the Vault and opened a file at random, choosing Life Support. from the list of saved files. The computer’s fans and processors whirred, thunderously loud in the silent Vault.

Life Support: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

Piper’s hand flew up to her mouth. She glanced back over her shoulder at the neat rows of pods. Each one contained a corpse, a man or woman or child who had gone to sleep 200 years before and would not wake up again. A mausoleum, class coffins row on row, showcasing centuries-old dead.

Breathing rapidly, Piper closed the file and opened another labeled >Pod Occupant Status. If the Vault’s emergency lighting still functioned, then maybe there was a backup generator for the life support system. She refused to believe that the Vault’s entire population had died, even as their ghosts pressed close around her.

She scrolled through the list of names, each returning the same message: Occupant status: Deceased. Cause of Death: Asphyxiation due to life support failure. Suppressing a wave of panic, Piper opened the penultimate file, C7. Occupant status: Unknown. -- Pod Door Manual Override Engaged/Remote Override Engaged. She read and reread the message, then whirled around and ran down the aisle, boots clanging on the steel floor.

Pod C7 was identical to its fellows, its occupant hidden behind a veil of ice crystals. Piper hesitated for a moment, then engaged the manual override. The pneumatic seal popped and hissed like a bottle of Nuka-Cola, supercooled air pouring out of the open pod. Piper took a step back as the door opened, revealing a dark-skinned woman with thick glasses and tightly curled, close-cropped hair.

For a moment, Piper thought she was dead, but the woman coughed and stirred, eyes fluttering open behind her glasses. Relief coursed through her veins as the woman opened her mouth to speak.

“Ted?” she said, her voice hoarse. “What happened? Where’s Shaun?” She blinked once, twice, then staggered forward, out of the pod. Piper rushed forward to catch her, staggering under the other woman’s weight.

She pushed Piper away, dark eyes narrowing. “Who are you?” she said, her voice barely audible over the hiss of escaping coolant. “What’s going on?” She looked around the room, then focused on the pod opposite hers, C6. “What happened to Ted? What have you done? Where’s Shaun?”

“Who?”

“Shaun,” said the woman, voice rising. “My son. Where is my son?”

“I--I don’t know,” said Piper. “What pod was he in?”

“That one.” The woman pointed at C6. “He was in with his mom.” She took a step forward and nearly fell again, limbs unsteady after so long in stasis. Piper moved unthinkingly, reaching forward to steady the other woman. “Open the pod,” she demanded. “Now.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Piper said, thinking of the terminal and the unending entries reading Occupant status: Deceased. “I think there was some sort of accident.”

“Open the pod.”

Piper hesitated, and the woman lunged forward, hands scrabbling on the controls. The seal disengaged, and after a few heartbeats, the smoke cleared to reveal a corpse, its skin grey and withered. The dead woman’s mouth was open in a permanent scream, and her Vault suit was soaked with dried blood. There was no sign of the baby, but her arms formed a cradle.

The woman screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Her name was Andrea.

She was two-hundred forty four years old, and she had been married to a woman named Theodosia “Ted” Nguyen. After she recovered from her initial shock, she had taken the ring from Ted’s finger, kissed her wife’s grey cheek, and resealed the pod, tears standing in her eyes. Andrea was silent until they were out of the Vault, blinking owlishly in the late afternoon sunlight.

“My god,” she said, mouth hanging open. She stood rigid, lips pressed in a thin line, arms wrapped around herself, blue Vault suit straining tight across her broad shoulders.

Piper followed her gaze, scanning the horizon. “Must look pretty different, huh?”

“Yeah,” murmured Andrea. “It’s just--it’s a lot to take in.”

“Take your time.” Piper said. She scuffed the ground with her boot heel, raising dust clouds.

Andrea was silent for a moment. “I saw the bomb fall,” she said quietly. “It was right over there.” She pointed southeast.

“Really? I can’t even imagine.” She hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry. For your loss.”

Andrea’s expression was stony. “Thank you.”

Piper looked away, down into the abandoned town below. “Is that where you lived?”

“Yes.”

Piper studied the other woman, already outlining an article in her head. _Andrea Taylor emerged from cryostasis deep within the bowels of Vault 111 to a world ravaged by nuclear fire. Born more than two centuries ago, she is a woman out of time._ She studied the other woman, making careful note of her posture and the stark contrast of her pristine blue Vault suit with the dirt and chaos of the Wasteland. A thousand questions occurred to her; she swallowed all but one. “What was it like, before the war?”

Andrea’s frown deepened. “Different.”

“Different how?”

“Just different,” said Andrea, a dangerous edge in her voice. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sorry,” said Piper immediately. “It’s alright, my article can wait.”

Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Your article?”

“I’m a reporter,” Piper said. “I run _Publick Occurrences,_ the best newspaper in the Commonwealth.”

“Huh.” Andrea lifted her gaze to the horizon, her expression unreadable behind her thick glasses. She stood like a stone wall, silent and unmoving. Piper turned away and began to gather kindling for a fire; Andrea remained unmoving long after Piper had coaxed a flame into being.

Dinner was pork and beans, heated over a low, smoky fire and eaten directly from the can. The two women sat parallel, looking out at the horizon rather than at one another. Piper ate with her hands, scooping beans from the can into her mouth and licking the gravy from her fingers, but Andrea improvised a spoon from the can’s lid. She ate mechanically, chewing and swallowing without pausing to taste or savor. Her glasses caught the firelight, hiding her eyes and masking her expression.

“You doing alright?” asked Piper.

Andrea glanced up. “Fine,” she said.

“You sure?”

“I’m _fine_.” Andrea tossed her empty can aside; the tin clattered against the trailer wall and fell noisily to ground. “Perfectly fine.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” Piper said. “And I know that I don’t know what you’re going through. But if you need to talk about it or anything, I can listen.”

Andrea frowned. “I’d rather not see my words in print.”

“I wouldn’t print anything you didn’t want me to,” Piper said. “I mean, I’m definitely going to write about this. But you can read it, before the story goes to press. If you want to.”

For a moment, Andrea said nothing. “I’m not going to tell you what to publish,” she said. “I had enough of that before--” She paused, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Write your story, Piper.”

“Thanks, Blue.”

“Blue?”

“Your suit,” she said, gesturing. “I dunno. It’s all anyone calls Vault dwellers.”

“Is that really a thing? ‘Vault dwellers?’”

Piper shrugged. “You don’t see ‘em too often. I think a lot of people do what they can to blend in and acclimate, but uh, they’re not always particularly successful.” She grimaced, recalling the horror stories about the poisoned waters of the Capitol Wasteland. “A lot of them go crazy.”

Andrea was silent, the dying fire reflected in her glasses. “Makes sense,” she said. “Waking up into this world would be enough to drive anyone insane.”

“You don’t know?” Piper spoke gently, cringingly. “Most people don’t exactly ‘wake up’ into it.” Piper spoke gently, cringingly. “Most Vaults were people are just living underground. Yours was the first I’d ever heard about anyone getting frozen for 200 years.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Every Vault was different, all experimental. Vault 81 was some sort of medical thing, 95 was about chems. It was all part of an experiment, apparently.” She shrugged, avoiding Andrea’s eyes. “I mean, I guess they saved a lot of people, but they messed up a lot more.” Piper thought of the corpses in their neat rows, the class caskets hidden in the hill and shuddered. From dozens of people, only one survivor: a broad-shouldered, shell-shocked woman, her eyes glassy and dull behind thick prescription lenses.

“Oh my god,” said Andrea. “It all makes sense, now.” She turned to Piper, her expression slack. “I was military, before the war. Everyone in the neighborhood was, everyone in the neighborhood was in that Vault. We never questioned it, there wasn’t _time_. We were supposed to repopulate the planet, after the bombs fell. Genetically perfect _breeding stock_.”

“I’m so sorry, Blue,” Piper said. “I thought you would have known--”

“If I’d known,” snapped Andrea, “I would have strangled that Vault-Tec rep before I let him anywhere near my family.” She pulled her glasses off and scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her wrist. “That _bastard_.”

“I’m sorry,” Piper repeated, unsure what else to say. She reached out hesitantly and laid a hand on Andrea’s shoulder; the other woman didn’t flinch or pull away. “I am so sorry.”

Andrea took a deep breath and put her glasses back on. “They murdered my wife and my son,” she said mechanically. “And everyone in our neighborhood. Fucking Vault-Tec iced us for some experiment and they let us die when they didn’t need us any more. They took Shaun out early, they shot Ted, and they left everyone else to die.” Face set in a scowl, Andrea turned her gaze back toward the horizon. “And if there are any of them left, I am going to find them, and I am going to burn them to the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have made this clear in a note on my first chapter: I modified the canon backstory for the Sole Survivor. Andrea is gay and was in the army. She had a baby with her wife, Ted.


	3. Chapter 3

When they entered the trailer, they barricaded the door behind them. Piper shrugged out of her coat while Andrea kicked her boots off, tucking her glasses inside for safekeeping. Unselfconscious, she unzipped her Vault suit halfway and tied the sleeves around her waist. Her white undershirt practically glowed against her dark skin, the thin cotton stretched taut over her solid body. Andrea’s thick arms were knit with scar tissue: plasma burns and a constellation of track marks on her inner arms. The gold band on her left hand caught what little light there was in the dim room, glinting in the darkness.

Piper averted her eyes, her cheeks burning. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, “about what you said earlier. Do you really want to go after Vault-Tec?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know if they’re still around,” she said, “but there’s this detective in Diamond City, Nick Valentine. And if he doesn’t know, he’ll be able to find out.”

Andrea glanced up, eyes narrowed. “I don’t have any money,” she said, a petulant edge in her voice.

“I think he’d take your case pro bono,” Piper said. “I’ve worked with him before, he’s a good guy.” _A good synth_ , she thought, but she pressed her lips together and said nothing.

“Diamond City?”

“It’s a town, about a day’s walk southwest of here,” she said. “Safest in the Commonwealth, at least according the Mayor.” She punctuated her statement with an eyeroll. “I’ve lived there for a couple years, now, and it’s nicer than most places. You’re, uh, welcome to stay with me and my sister, just until you get your feet back under you.”

“Thank you.” Andrea spoke quietly, her voice barely audible in the darkened room. “That’s very kind of you to offer.”

“It’s nothing!” Piper said, her voice artificially high and bright. “I couldn’t leave you alone out in the Wasteland. Nat would never forgive me.” She pressed her lips together and quietly cursed herself for a fool, hoping the darkness hid her blush.

Andrea perched on the edge of the desk, leaning back against the corrugated tin wall. “Is Nat your sister?”

Piper nodded. “Younger sister, yeah. She’s almost 12.”

“Is it just the two of you?”

“Yeah. Has been for about ten years, now.”

“I’m sorry,” said Andrea. She ran her fingers along the edge of the desk until she found a chip in the chrome trim.

“Don’t be sorry,” Piper said. “We’ve got the newspaper and our own place in Diamond City. It was tough, but things are better than they’ve been.” She shrugged. “Life goes on.”

Andrea grimaced, picking at a spot on the desktop with her short, blunt fingernails. “I guess it does,” she said sullenly.

“Shit, sorry Blue,” said Piper. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“It’s fine,” said Andrea, avoiding Piper’s eyes. “We should get some sleep.”

“Good idea,” Piper said. “We got a long walk back home tomorrow morning. I uh, I don’t have any blankets or anything. Sorry.”

“I’ll be fine on the ground,” said Andrea. “No cots in the Marine Corps.”

“In the what?”

“The United States Marine Corps,” said Andrea, automatically. At Piper’s blank look, she clarified. “Pre-war military. I was in for about ten years, right out of high school. Did a couple tours in Alaska.” She scratched absentmindedly at the scars on her forearm.

“Oh,” said Piper. She nodded and made a mental note to look ‘Alaska’ up in Zwicky’s battered encyclopedia set when she returned to Diamond City. “Did you like it?”

Andrea snorted. “No.” She turned away, and Piper let the subject drop, curling up on the floor with her back to the wall and her coat balled up beneath her head. Andrea lay down beside her. She settled on her side, her back to Piper, arms wrapped around herself for warmth. After a few minutes, her breathing deepened and slowed, and Andrea rolled onto her back, frowning even in her sleep.

Piper watched her for a moment. Her eyelids began to droop, and she fell asleep, lulled by the sound of the other woman breathing beside her. When she woke a few hours later, Andrea was gone and their crude barricade had been messily disassembled. The door to the trailer stood open.

“Blue?” Piper sat up. “Where are you?”

“Out here.” Andrea’s hoarse voice drifted in on the chilly breeze, and Piper shivered. She slipped her coat on and left the trailer.

Andrea stood braced against the metal wall, her heart-shaped face shining with sweat. She looked up helplessly at Piper, eyes wide, pupils dilated, trembling. The half-digested remains of that evening’s dinner lay at her feet. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” she said weakly.

“Are you alright?” asked Piper.

“Fine,” said Andrea. “Those beans didn’t agree with me.”

“You should have said something,” she said. “Hang on, I have a couple bottles of water in my back.” She ducked back into the trailer and reemerged with a bottle of purified water, the remnants of a pre-war label clinging to the grooved plastic. “Here,” she said.

Andrea accepted it with trembling hands. She rinsed her mouth and drank, throat bobbing as she emptied the bottle. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she complained, leaning back against the trailer. “Think it’s the cryogenesis?”

“Could be,” said Piper nervously. “Could be the radiation.”

Andrea cursed. “What about Rad-X?” she said hoarsely. “Does that still exist? We all had prescriptions, but I never thought I’d need it.”

“Rad-X keeps you from absorbing rads,” said Piper. “It won’t do anything for the radiation already in your system. You need RadAway for that.” She reached out gingerly and put her hand on Andrea’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” she said. “You probably only took a really small dose of radiation, your body just isn’t used to it.”

Andrea groaned. “How long does it take to build up a resistance?”

“I don’t know,” Piper admitted. “It’s not something you think about, living your whole life out here.”

The other woman shut her eyes and pressed her face against the cool metal trailer. “I feel like garbage,” she said. “Absolute garbage.”

“It’ll pass.” Piper rubbed Andrea’s back, small, soothing circles like she did when Nat was sick. Andrea relaxed at her touch, tension draining from her shoulders. “Come on, you should go back to bed, if you can. It’s about a day’s walk to Diamond City.”

“How far is that?”

Piper frowned. “You mean the distance? I don’t know. Maybe twenty miles?”

“Could’ve made the trip in half-an-hour,” Andrea murmured. She buried her shining face in the crook of her arm and was silent for a moment.

Piper hovered by her shoulder, uncertain, and said nothing.

“Alright,” said Andrea, taking a deep breath. “Back to bed, then. I’ll try not to wake you if I have to get up again.”

“Blue, you’re sick,” said Piper. “It’s _fine_. I’d rather lose sleep than know you were sitting out here alone, puking up your guts.”

“Thank you.” Andrea managed a watery smile, and Piper returned it in earnest. They returned to the trailer and bedded down beside one another. Piper dozed, keenly attuned to the other woman, not wanting to be left behind if she was sick again. Andrea slept fitfully, kicking in her sleep, her feet knocking into Piper’s shins. She slept like a hound dog, twitching and whining in the grip of some nightmare. Piper watched her through half-closed eyes, helpless to do anything else.


End file.
